


when the seasons pass

by rappedRomcoms



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Sadstuck, this is short because im trying to get myself in the mood of writing again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2019-04-01 00:22:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13986459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rappedRomcoms/pseuds/rappedRomcoms
Summary: You don't think you can remember him.





	when the seasons pass

**Author's Note:**

> i tried to get myself in the mood to write my next fic ((which will ideally be big, multi-chaptered, and not sadstuck)) by practicing writing a short lil story  
> uhhhh my tumblr is postscratchmortem.tumblr.com

You wake up in a place that sends a chill through your spine.

You wake up in your bedroom, in an apartment in Houston, as you have presumably done for your entire life. Yet something feels off.

As you walk out of your room, the feeling of discomfort settles in you even more so. Your house seems too clean- no puppet is seen but Lil Cal, resting his plush limbs upon the armrest of the couch.

He stares at you.

_[why is he looking at you like that]_

You head back into your room.

Your Pesterchum is open, yet you have no contacts on it. You faintly recall having contacts on the application, but maybe it was just a dream.

You sit down on your bed, resting your head against the wall. You don't think Bro is home, so you allow it to hit the wall with a soft thud. As you rest on your bed's messy blankets, your eyes trail to your computer once more. You remember opening it, playing some kind of game with some kind of friends. However, you can't recall who you were playing with, or the outcome. 

Turning away

 _[i_ _t_ _hurts to think about_ _]_

you sneak a glance towards your turntables. You scowl in annoyance as you realize that they have been scratched down the middle in a fashion that could only be described as a lightning bolt. A clean cut straight through. You don't know how anyone could have managed the feat. You do not know what it represents.

_[the scratch]_

You step up, not letting your feet make any noise. You don't think Bro is home, but maybe you made too much noise

_[maybe cal is watching]_

earlier, so you'll play it safe. Stepping towards your turntables, you find that there is a pile of movies tucked behind them.

You don't like these movies- they're all trashy romcoms- and neither does your Bro. Even he would think this is a hot pile of garbage, ironic or not. But you faintly recall someone who  _did_ like these movies, 

_[dave its karkat remember please you love him]_

and they seemed to be very close to you. You feel empty thinking about it, as if a ghost has crawled into your heart and hollowed a part out for itself. 

You find yourself mumbling little phrases here and there. 

_"Welcome to Can Town!"_

_"Dude, don't touch my cape."_

_"Cape magnet."_

You don't know what Can Town is, and you don't know why you are speaking. The words come tumbling out of your mouth as if you've spoken them a million times, yet ironically, you can't remember uttering a single sentence such as one of those. 

You pick up a romcom

_[you watched it with him]_

and stare at the cover. The people in the picture don't look human, but it's as if your brain doesn't want you to remember what they actually are. It is on the tip of your tongue, and it is lodged in your throat. It makes you choke, and so you put it down. 

You know you had some memories of this, these people who aren't human, but the mental barrier isn't letting you through. You are shaking uncontrollably.

You walk back to the bed, maybe a bit too hurried. You can't stop feeling as if you are forgetting something incredibly important. Yet you sit on your bed, staring at the wall.

_[he's going to be killed on alternia because of his fucking blood and you're doing nothing]_

You feel a nagging sensation in you, a sense of worry, but you can't remember why you  _should_ be worried. You have no idea who the worry should belong to. 

You remember soft hands- too much unlike the others

_[the other trolls]_

yet fitting perfectly between yours. You remember a sharp, gruff voice and you remember nights spend entangled with one another. Yet you cannot remember the owner of these things. Maybe you hit your head on the last tumble down the stairs. You don't know why you'd be thinking these strange thoughts, about this blurry person you've never met. Yet you remember the way that they would purr as you petted their hair softly, the way that they would go on hour-long rants over some insignificant topic. 

You remember the way that their lips fit perfectly with yours but you can't remember  _them._

There is a part of you that knows that something is wrong, but it is pushed back by the part of you that is ignorant. Blind to what has happened. 

Your mind is not playing tricks on you, but that will not occur to you.

Your name is Dave Strider, and as he has forgotten you, you have forgotten Karkat Vantas.

**Author's Note:**

> lmaobye


End file.
